


Or Something

by Stuffy (AlexKingOfTheDamned)



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Consensual Kink, Face-Sitting, M/M, Stuffing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-25 03:00:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10755351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexKingOfTheDamned/pseuds/Stuffy
Summary: Bull is "training" for something, and Dorian doesn't quite know how to feel about it. Krem is there to ease the way.





	Or Something

**Author's Note:**

> This was a 1600 word commission! If you're interested in commissioning me for fic like this, just contact me here http://stuffingandthings.tumblr.com/commissions

_Sorry babe, tonight’s not a good night. Bull’s training for work._

 

_I suppose I’ll survive somehow without your combined embrace. Whatever he does for work, I certainly hope it’s worth it. I’ll be rubbing myself with expensive creams in your absence until I smell like a queen._

 

_Wait, you don’t know what Bull does for work?_

 

_Really, you’re just going to let a queen joke slip right by?_

 

_Change of plans. Come over._

 

Dorian’s coat is practically vacuumed off his body by Krem when he arrives at Bull’s door. He opens his mouth to ask what all the fuss is about, but Krem just herds him down the hall, towards the little personal gym built into Bull’s house.

 

“Is he a boxer or something?” Dorian frowns. It’s a little embarrassing to have so much attention drawn to the fact that he doesn’t know what Bull does for a living, despite being a part of his and Krem’s relationship for the past few months.

 

“Or something,” Krem grins. He opens the door for Dorian to slip into the little anteroom before the gym, where Bull is sitting on a bench with one of those shiny silk robes over his shoulders, wearing basketball shorts and a tank top. Dorian frowns in confusion as Krem begins massaging Bull’s shoulders. “Alright, chief. I want you to slam it like you always do. You’re going to _crush_ them on Sunday.”

 

Bull is stretching his neck from side to side, and, interestingly, his jaw. He doesn’t have any boxing gloves on his hands, but that doesn’t... necessarily mean anything. Dorian frowns, uncomfortable with the lack of information. “Is there... something I should be doing?”

 

“Just enjoy the show,” Krem grins, and Bull stands up so Krem can divest him of his robe. He throws the doors open to the gym, followed by his two human lovers, to reveal...

 

“Hot dogs?” Dorian quirks a brow at Krem as Bull takes his place behind the table stacked high with more hot dogs than Dorian’s ever seen in his life, and Krem pulls out a stop watch. “Wait... is he--”

 

“Competitive eater, baby,” Bull grins, and with the sound of the buzzer in Krem’s hand, he begins.

 

Dorian watches with wide eyes, rooted to the spot, as Bull practically swallows hot dogs whole. One hand glued to Dorian’s mouth, the other wrapped around his ribs, Krem chanting encouragements from beside, the mage can only watch in... horror? Definitely horror, it has to be. He feels an odd fluttering sensation in his stomach that he can only assume is nausea

 

Bull puts hot dogs away like nobody’s business. Dorian can only watch in mute fascination as he swallows dogs whole and then downs buns soaked in water in two or three bites. His throat ripples practically like water with the frequency of his swallows, and the piles on the table, ten piles with ten dogs each, begin to vanish like clockwork. The first pile is gone in a matter of seconds, followed by the next, and he doesn’t seem to be slowing down.

 

Dorian can’t make sense of the emotions running through him. Disgust, horror, shock, awe, morbid fascination, fear for Bull’s safety, a sick desire to watch him keep going and going... he feels his own stomach going tight as Bull swallows the fiftieth hot dog with no signs of slowing down.

 

 _He can’t finish all of them,_ is what he wants to ask Krem, but he can’t seem to move a muscle, even to peel his hand off his mouth. Bull is like a machine, working through the next pile of ten dogs, soaking the buns and swallowing without even chewing. Sixty... seventy... eighty... a throbbing has started up somewhere in Dorian’s body, but he’s hypnotized, watching Bull eat.

 

When Bull slams down the last dog and raises both his hands, his shirt rides up a little bit. Krem gives a noise of triumph, holding the stop watch over his head. “A minute and twelve! You beat your record, Bull!”

 

Dorian’s wide-eyed gaze shifts from Bull to Krem. A minute and twelve seconds? All of that took barely a _minute?_ He feels dizzy, where’s a fainting couch when you really need one?

 

“What did you think?” Krem turns to look at Dorian with a smug grin.

 

Finally broken from his spell, Dorian peels the hand from his mouth, and grips his other arm with it. “Well, I-- I’m frankly-- disgusted and I--”

 

Bull and Krem exchange looks. Dorian keeps trying to babble his way through an excuse as to why his face is so red, while Krem circles around behind him. Dorian’s words sputter out to nothing as Bull stands up, pawing the side of his gut, which has easily doubled in size. He feels something clench up, but Bull’s already at his side, with a massive hand cupping the swollen tent at the front of his slacks.

 

How exactly they got from there to here, half undressed in Bull’s giant bed, Dorian isn’t sure. Bull’s shirt is gone, and his silver-skinned belly is arching up off the bed in a huge dome. Bull has a way of taking all the precursory guesswork out of sex with Dorian, he makes it so he doesn’t even question things anymore, doesn’t feel the need to do mental gymnastics to justify every thought and feeling. He just _feels._

 

And right now, he feels that incredible gut. Bull groans as Dorian puts pressure on his full gut with both hands to lean down and kiss him. He’s not as full as he could possibly get, but competitive eating isn’t necessarily ever about capacity as much as speed. Later on he’ll have to really test his limits with Dorian watching. Perhaps with Dorian _helping._

 

His sides burn and ache, the stretch in his belly countered only by the pulse in his cock. He belches every few seconds, air squeezed up through his throat from the pressure Dorian keeps putting on him, pushing and petting and squeezing his stomach.

 

“I can’t believe-- _100 hot dogs?_ Bull, that’s _vile_.” Even as he says it though, he’s grinding his cock against Bull’s. Pants were lost some time ago, his dress shirt unbuttoned and hanging off his elbows like wings as he humps the underside of Bull’s full gut.

 

“I told you, Bull’s good with his mouth,” Krem smirks, as he straddles Bull’s face backwards, facing Dorian. His knees hook under Bull’s horns, holding his head in place as he grinds his hips back, and Bull goes to work. With one hand he holds Krem’s hip, and with the other he reaches out for Dorian. His stomach gives an undignified squeak as it works to break down the titanic meal Bull just forced down into it, but Dorian quickly rubs away the cramp.

 

Dorian can’t even find it in him to complain, as he normally would (playfully, of course) when the task of prepping him falls to himself. Three fingers make way for Bull’s cock, and he rides him with gusto, both hands braced on Bull’s globe of a belly. Between him and Krem, the room is filled with gasps and moans, and the slick sounds of sex.

 

They lean over Bull’s middle in a kiss, and Bull stuffs a pillow under his head to better reach Krem’s cunt. He sucks and pulls at his labia with his lips, curling his tongue over his clit and then stuffing it inside him, repeating the process with little nips thrown in for flavor here and there. He’s beached by his stomach, incapable of thrusting up to meet Dorian, but he doesn’t really need to. The mage easily rocks his hips up and down without his help, impaling himself over Bull’s thick cock and giving those delightful, gasping and involuntary yelps every time the thick piercing at the head of Bull’s cock brushes his prostate.

 

Their orgasms aren’t exactly simultaneous, but it feels that way anyway. As they crumple in a heap, Bull flanked by his two favorite Vints, their breathing mingles until together it slows into something more comfortable. Two dark hands from either side rub over Bull’s colossal gut, exploring and petting and massaging away the cramps whenever they grumble or creak to the surface.

 

“Next time, we can feed him,” Krem smiles sleepily at Dorian over Bull’s shoulder. He loves seeing Dorian like this, with his eyeliner smeared and his mustache and hair uncoiffed. He looks so human and vulnerable. And remarkably, Dorian doesn’t mind being seen like these by these two men.

 

“Next time,” Dorian leans up to give Bull a kiss, and then Krem. “ _No hot dogs_.”


End file.
